The Key
by JapantheYaoi-Otaku
Summary: One's a simple painter, only living for the sights he sees everyday. The other is a self-motivated scientist who'd only started catching up to the answer of his never-ending riddle; "What is the meaning to life?" Now, these two know nothing of the other, until fate brought them together and (permanently) bound their destinies in an event that shall change their lives for good.
1. Prologue

**The Key**

**Note : This story will become much more mature in the later chapters.**

_GerIta Fanfiction__  
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_Prologue_

It felt nice; the soft curtains of the moon's dim lighting, the cool air that gave you chills as though good-intentioned wraiths were stroking you. As absurd the descriptions told it, the night was a marvelous spectacle to behold... No one else was there. You could do anything you want to do, as many times as you can, especially in this endless pool of wildflowers and weeds alike. Feliciano always found his inspiration just by looking at them, just by staring into the intense, wide arrays of colors that stood short or long in front of him. It was almost like the endless league of flowers and wild, out-of-sorts stalks of grass were kneeling before him, like a king of some kind. Now, this simple painter could never be in that sort of position, no matter what he did; he was well aware of that and could care no less. The thrill of having this sight all to himself was better than anything else in the world, in his opinion. A whole forest of mystery, all to himself-not entirely to himself, but being one of the few who even remembered of its existence and misunderstood beauty, he wouldn't mind calling it his own. He smiled, and later giggled, at the thought.  
"Feliciano, the painter, who gets inspired by staring at plants..."

Considerably far from that part of the land, another man goes through his usual cycle to what gives his life meaning. And coincidentaly, that's what the young scientist was studying; the meaning to life. This topic was not exactly a professional one, but it mattered to him, and so he'd find its deeply-dwelled-on answer. Another man may think that being stuck in a room, eyes pasted onto brittle paper that told of the past and of the many tales and histories that helped in the creation of the modern Earth may be quite boring, maybe even frustratingly fruitless (much like little Feli's life) but it gave this man's life meaning. He breathed in a large lungful of aged paper and slightly stale air. It seems that he is going no where near the answer-he always felt that maybe it was just hiding, right under his nose, but it always slipped away so easily, it almost felt like chasing your own shadow... Absolutely time-consumingly... Useless. But his curiosity and stubborn nature just made him want the answer even more.  
He tossed the old fragment of book onto the table and yawned. He stretched himself deeper into his web of blankets. The bed underneath creaked slighty, mostly out of his heavy built and it's time-beaten structure.  
"If I were to find this secret... This well-hidden secret... Bruder'd feel good about that."  
He closed his eyes and let the soft, feathery touches of sleep's many hands bring him over to a black-hued world.


	2. Chapter 1: God Forsaken City Pt 1

**The Key**

_Chapter 1_

Many a norm in his life could be seen as a tad odd to the common narrow-minded eyes of one of the town-folk down in the heavily-inhabited crowd of buildings and human far from his God-blessed sanctuary: an example was to go ahead and wander of into his self-proclaimed fortress of green-pink-yellow-blue, especially deep in the night when the stars in the Heaven above seem to burn the brightest, and think and think, maybe even nap a bit if he wanted to, and find some more things to think about.  
At several but not all times had he brought a clear canvas and paints that could weave a hand-made rainbow at the flick of an experienced wrist to jot his creativity into tangible form. He expressed his wild visions in the most expectantly awe-issuing way, and as much as he'd loved and longed for some human companionship, naught but the eyes of him, his holy Lord above, and the stars ever gazed a peek. A con, he considered it, in his life that can never be brushed aside - not even the gentle breeze can sway this knowledge away. He stared at the glittered sky, his sight closer to them from the elevated terrain. His face was solemn and the expression was never-budging. The land of lonesome beauty was nice, but mere flowers and grasses of different variety could not wrap a warm arm around this oaf of a man, he thought to himself in bitter realization.

* * *

His main living quarters are located a few meters away from his floral-y decorated work place. The warm little cabin was accompanied by a barn about three times as large, which had been built countless generations before his own time. A few of the standard barn-yard animals occupied the space: two strong middle-aged horses, a few cows, both young and aged, and a few chickens that looked to be at the brink of their foretold life-times.  
He had taken a look into his food supply that morning, and it was unsurprisingly low. That was expected actually; he had been in a feverishly gluttony mood the night before (he'd apologized to his God, knowing he sinned against Him for that event) and told himself that he'd go into town to stock up. This wasn't the first time a problem of the sort had occurred, and he always had a solution for things he knew were to happen. And in this predicament, he'd have to go into town, with the remaining money of the earlier generations of the Vargas bloodline (which isn't much, to his comfort) and the money he would gain from selling some items he gain through hand-blistering labor (some plants he'd grown himself, some milk he had gotten from the cows mentioned earlier, similar things of the lot.)  
In between the aged walls of the Vargas household, the last known man of his kin was preparing himself and his bag for the journey that lay ahead. He made sure his hair was okay and in presentable shape, for the sake of his long-passed Mama, who'd always nag about the sort of thing. Attention to his clothes followed after, and in a few minutes, he had made himself into his epitome of presentable. For someone of his background, he looked excusable.  
His time-water-earth-sod-worn boots made faint _click clack_ sounds with every tap against the stern, rock-like ground that made the walk way that follows in a semi-straight line out the door. Ignoring the straying trail ahead, he darted past the grass and soon into the barn. Barn animals, chickens and cows alike, whined at the sudden intrusion of their owner. They seem to catch up on the occasion, taking heed of the intimidating man's newer and cleaner garb. They moved out of the way in an almost scripted fashion.  
It was easy taking Talia, his personal horse, out of the decaying walls of the centuries old shack, but not as easy to get on. She was a young horse (in comparison with the other one, who was a few years older) and held much more energy than she'd more time to spend. She buckled and swayed often, making a supposedly tedious task one of the most horrendous and worrisome (if there were others to witness)  
Finally, with a triumphant sigh, he found his bottom on the saddle that was strapped around her. He doesn't ride horses often as much as he probably should, but he knew what to do, his thanks regarded to the instructed guidance of the past.

Bearing them in mind, they darted through the varying layers of forest that separated town from the flower strewn land of the Vargas, with the noon's sun burning in their wake.


End file.
